


English Summer Rain

by Pluppelina



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Play, Crossdressing, D/s themes, Double Penetration, Incest, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Shower Sex, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest, Unsafe Sex, mentions of spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pluppelina/pseuds/Pluppelina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severin has a tendency to show up unbidden at Sebastian's door step at the most unfitting of times. This one's really not so bad, once you consider the alternatives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a birthday gift for Connor, bigbootsmanofwar on Tumblr. Will update with one chapter a day until it's finished.

He opens the door and there it is - Severin Moran’s cheshire grin. Sebastian takes that in first, followed by the hands in the pockets, the raised shoulders, the acted out shame that’s completely obliterated by that big fucking proud smile on his face. Whatever he wants of Sebastian, it’s going to mean trouble, and Sebastian is sorely tempted to just slam the door in Sev’s face. The only thing that stops him is the strong suspicion it would only make his brother crawl in through the window.

“You can’t be here,” Sebastian says instead, hoping that it’ll be enough of a rejection that Severin turns away. He doesn’t; he just keeps grinning. There’s enough history between them that Sebastian knows he might as well give in now and save himself a solid hour of meaningless discussion.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting together in the kitchen, drinking tea. It doesn’t matter what you do with Severin Moran, or what you intended to do with him; he’s got a way of worming his way into anyone’s home, underwear or heart. No one knows that better than Sebastian, who’s been on the receiving side of this charm for the better part of his life. _Let’s go drinking, Sebastian. It’s just a blow job, Sebastian. Have you never worn knickers before, Sebastian._ Insufferable little fuck that he is, he’s been the one to introduce Sebastian to many of his vices, and he’s considering his tendency towards submission one of those vices. If it hadn’t been for Severin Moran, Sebastian might never have realised the silent joy of doing as he’s told.

Not that it makes him feel any less hostile towards the man who is currently balancing his kitchen chair on two legs alone and acting completely oblivious to the fact that Sebastian asked him to keep silent. This isn’t his flat alone and he’d rather not wake the other person living here, would rather not introduce the two men who’ve dominated his life to one another. The results are too unpredictable, the mix too volatile. He doesn’t dare.

“You can’t stay,” he says again, and again, Severin opts to ignore him.

“This is a really nice Darje-” 

“Seriously, Sev. You can’t stay.”

That earns him a disapproving glare and a shrug. Finally, a sign Severin has heard him. “I’ve got nowhere to go, unless you’re prepared to pay me off,” he says, making eye contact finally. It makes Sebastian feels slightly like he’s been fixed by a cobra out to get him. “The whore I took home last night stole my wallet. She even robbed the fucking minibar, little cunt. Got me thrown out of the hotel.” He makes a great show of leaning back and raising his eyes up to meet Sebastian’s, smirk toying on his lips. “I’m still wearing her underwear, though, so I think I came out ahead.” 

If this had been anything but what he’s learned to expect from Sev, Sebastian might’ve choked on his sip of tea. As it stands now, he swallows calmly and sends his brother an annoyed look to try and disguise the worry he’s feeling, worry that Jim will wake up, find them, and deduce everything. It’s not pure worry, though; rather, it’s starting to grow into a sort of thrilled anticipation, as though it’s unavoidable. Perhaps it always was. 

Sebastian is sure that Severin would’ve read this on his face just as easy as he reads everything else on it, had he not been so busy being disappointed that he’d gotten no reaction to his shocking revelation. Sev likes to do that, for whatever reason, give people what they least expect when they least expect it, no matter the eventual consequences. Really, it’s a miracle he’s survived this far. Lucky fucker. Sebastian can’t help but feel like he should’ve taught Sev harsh reality instead of gasp when he tried on a pair of girly underwear himself for the first time, at his brother’s request. This is the first time Sev’s ever shown the same proclivity, though. Perhaps it’s meant to be a taunt. Perhaps he couldn’t stand coming to beg without a twist to his arrival, an ace up his sleeve, emotionally speaking. 

Sebastian has never been this glad that his boss had to spend the entire night chasing down people no one else in his employ were good enough to find. He might sleep through this entire unfortunate visit, if Sebastian is lucky enough. If Sebastian can reach for his wallet quick enough. But Sebastian’s never, ever been the lucky twin.

“Sebastian, darling?” comes an uncharacteristically soft call from across the hallway, “Come warm me up. The bed gets so awfully cold without you.”

Once, in the middle of a meeting with Russian diplomat out to marry a girl thirty years his junior, Jim had said something of the same effect. Sebastian had thought that Jim couldn’t possibly have found a worse time to get randy, but he was obviously wrong. This is much worse.

“You’ve got yourself a boyfriend, then?” Severin asks, and it seems like he was the one who came shocked out of the conversation this time around. Despite the situation, that makes Sebastian feel a little pleased with himself. Then again, Sev’s got a way of sneaking his way into whatever situation he wants, sometimes by using not-so-subtle-at-all methods, and this is one of those times, so he goes on; “Do you think he’d mind having another of you for a couple nights?” 

Sebastian’s sure that this statement wouldn’t be anywhere near this horrible if he hadn’t been halfway convinced Jim would love the idea. As much as he’s missed his brother, as much as he once adored his brother, he’s with Jim now. Having them together would be like watching two different universes collide. Then again, Jim always says that colliding universes are beautiful to watch. Might be he’s right.

It’s about here Sebastian realises it’s not a very healthy line of thought he’s started himself in on, that Severin fucking Moran’s fucking grin’s affected him enough to even consider this already, and since Jim’s awake, hell, there’s nothing left to lose, is there? He might as well give in to his childish need of revenge. Sebastian moves his foot in underneath the front legs of Severin’s chair, still dangling in the air, and pushes just enough to make it tip over and crash into the floor. Sev goes flying in the most satisfying way and lands with an undignified yelp. Laughing at him feels better than anything Sebastian’s done all week. The sudden tsking coming from the door puts him out of his good mood in two seconds flat.

“Like children,” Jim says, from where he’s leaning against the doorframe. There’s an air about him, an air that’s always made Sebastian feel respect and submission towards the smaller man, that’s always made him keep his distance and watch his tongue and that now makes him rise from his chair, but Sev is as always immune against the finer points of his own survival instincts. He jumps right back onto his feet, smirks, and says in his usual cocky tone of speech, “He was mine first, you know.” As though it’s perfectly normal for twins to fuck their way through their teens. As though Jim won’t find them absolutely disgusting for it.

Not that Jim does. Of course Jim doesn’t. He raises his eyebrows, gives a smirk, altogether much more back to himself now. He’s conducting himself as though he’s wearing Westwood when, in reality, all he’s got on are his own pants and one of Sebastian’s old, faded Nirvana t-shirts. “Really? Well, he’s mine now.” Jim’s head oscillates the way it only does when he’s thinking very hard and Sebastian already knows he’s just absolutely beyond fucked. Then again, he had a feeling he would be from the very beginning.

Severin, so ignorant to the power coming off of Jim in waves, somehow senses that this isn’t the best approach to get what he’s itching for. It seems impossible that someone so ignorant can be so good at playing this game, but then again, that’s Sev all over. Completely impossible.

“So you’ve had him, then? You know all those neat little tricks of his? He learned them all from me.” There’s a certain amount of pride Severin takes in that, in deleting all the sexual progress Sebastian’s made in the last fifteen years, making it all about their own teenage escapades. Sometimes, Sebastian wonders if Sev thinks he hasn’t got laid since, but here he is, talking to the actual proof of the opposite without a care in the world. And of course, he rocks back on his heels before he delivers the punchline, as though it’s not a punchline at all: “Wouldn’t you rather have the master than the pupil?”

There’s a certain spark of something in Jim’s eye at the use of the word master, a certain intrigue, and Sebastian knows already that Jim’s figured something out - possibly something that’s going to become all hell in the upcoming days. He’s however starting to feel like it might be worth it as he looks from one to the other and almost sees the pissing contest begin. _Sebby loves me the best._ Christ.

“Master, hm? So he liked bending over for you too?”

And with that simple couple of sentences, Jim has completely taken charge of the situation. Severin draws up to his full height, making Sebastian feel self-conscious of his own stooping, his own shrinking down before Jim. But they’re not dueling for power any longer, he and either of these men. This fight is for him, not with him, and he already knows who’ll come out on top in the end. Sev, on the other hand, hasn’t a clue that he doesn’t stand a chance. Sebastian doesn’t make any move to tell him; he’ll find out for himself, soon enough, and Sebastian thinks the journey there might be quite interesting.

“You know he did,” Severin says, with a cockiness and certainty he most likely doesn’t possess. Then again, of course Sebastian liked bending over for Sev. Of course he liked dressing up for Sev, wearing the various pieces of clothing Sev stole from his girlfriends or the department store when he was bored, cheap knickers and cheaper stockings or sometimes nothing underneath the skirts that always looked awkwardly short on him and got tented by his erection, lifting to show his balls below the hem. Of course he loved being fucked by Sev and of course he loved it when Sev decided to put him over his lap and spank him. He doesn’t know that Jim knows that, though, and he doesn’t find out when Jim opens his mouth, either.

“I’ve seen the scars,” Jim says, nodding. “I admire your work.” And that’s wrong, that’s all wrong and backwards. They shouldn’t be teaming up, shouldn’t be bonding over their mutual interest in showing him that his place is at their feet. They should hold a certain amount of healthy hostility towards each other, the way ex lovers and current lovers do. If they don’t... His stomach does a flip and he can feel blood pooling low, the first sign of an oncoming erection. He’s not quite sure if the anticipation is dread or excitement any more. Perhaps it’s a bit of both.

“I take it you’ve left some of your own,” Severin replies, quick to catch on, quicker even than Sebastian, just this once. As it turns out, universes colliding is distracting more than anything, forcing one to reflect on the world when one really ought to be grounded and stable in it instead. Then again, that’s never the way it works around Sev. It’s always felt like he sucks all the action out of Sebastian, as though his own endless twitching, moving, fighting, fucking is enough of it for the both of them and all that’s left for Sebastian to do is watch.

Until, of course, he’s asked to participate.

“Sebastian, dear?” Jim says, again, as though he’s only just now realised that the first Moran twin is in fact also present, “Will you drop your pants and show your brother the lovely marks I’ve given you?”

As Sebastian moves to undo his belt, he doesn’t blush - doesn’t, because he’s used to this. Not being passed around like this, not to be shared, but to be talked down to, like an amusing dog who knows a good party trick. Perhaps that’s a more apt metaphor than he actually meant it to be, he thinks as he turns and bends over, just a little, to give Sev a better view. He could bet that the knickers he slides down over his own arse are ten times as expensive as Sev’s were, lost wallet and all, and there’s some comfort in that. He might be someone’s dog, but at least he’s well kept, whereas Sev’s just roaming the alleys, feeding on scraps.

Sebastian more feels than sees the hungry look Severin gives his arse. Sev hasn’t had him since before he went off to war, since before a tiger mauled him half to death, making his skin a patchwork of scars where Sev’s is a patchwork of ink. They match better now. He wonders idly if it’s the new scars, continuing up underneath his shirt, and the fresh bruises, continuing down his thighs, or having him on display that turns Severin on the most. There’s no doubt he’s turned on, though - none at all. Sebastian doesn’t even have to face him to know that, but he does anyway, pulls his knickers and jeans back up and sends a glance over his shoulder. Sev is practically drooling. Jim’s eyes are shining.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he,” Jim says, so proud of Sebastian it makes him grin. For a moment, they only have eyes for each other, silently resettling into their relationship with one another, their trust and respect for each other. Yeah. No matter what is to follow this, they’re going to stay solid through it and come out unchanged on the other side. Sebastian forms his lips to blow Jim a kiss, feeling Sev’s effect on him from across the three feet of space separating them. It’s strange, how unstable Severin’s presence makes him, how unlike himself. It’s even stranger that it feels so good - he’d all but forgotten how nice it could be to give in like this.

A moment is all they get before Sev clears his throat, to try and get their attention back. They both ignore him for another tic, just long enough to make it plain that he's the outsider here, that he's the one without the power. Then, when the point is made, Jim shifts his gaze over towards Severin again.

"How rude of me," he says, for the first time pushing away from the vantage point of the kitchen doorway. "Your tea's getting cold." Getting is probably an understatement, but Sebastian gets Jim’s point and moves to take down another cup, setting a place for Jim at the head of the table. It's bound to be the most bizarre tea party Sebastian's ever been part of, but he doesn't protest. Doesn't really mind any longer, because his brother isn't a threat any longer, and Jim's back in control. _Daddy’s home._

It’s not long before all three of them are seated at the table, fresh cups of tea steaming. Perhaps, if he and Sev had had a normal relationship, this would’ve been the time to catch up, to get back in touch properly after such a long silence, but honestly, he doesn’t think that Severin has done anything worthy of mention in their years of radio silence. Last they spoke, he was making a living alternatively by dealing drugs and stealing – much what Sebastian was doing to make money in his teens. No wonder his brother makes him feel so childish.

“How was Paris?” Jim breaks the ice by saying, very casually, and it takes Sebastian a moment to realize he’s addressing Sev. Something new under the sun, for his brother? No, never. But Sev just grins.

“Great, really. Even warmer than here.” He doesn’t actually have to vocalize _lots of bare skin to look at_ ; it’s plainly written on his face. Looking down into his cup, Sebastian subdues the urge to ask Jim how he knew that, how he knew his brother had gone traveling when he didn’t himself, but in the end he decides against it. It really won’t do them any good, and it’s better if they appear a tight-knit team. His pride can take the blow. After all, what’s a little stupidity after admitting to being a lapdog?

“How touching you’d take the time to come all the way here, just to visit us, when you were having such a good time,” Jim goes on, and there’s something superior in his tone, as though he already knows what Sebastian supposes he’s fishing for – why on Earth Severin is actually sitting at their table, drinking their tea and enjoying a hospitality few people ever get from either of them. That won’t last forever, though. Sev still can’t stay, that hasn’t changed.

“What, can’t I miss my brother?” Severin asks, still grinning just as confidently as ever, sipping some more from his tea. It only takes a glance at Jim to know what he’s thinking, that he’s considering if it’s worth luring the truth out of Sev or if he’s just as boring as the rest of them, lying, bluffing, thinking he can get away with it, showing no respect. Sebastian, who does after all still hold some loyalty towards his big brother, he hurries to save him, saying, “He’s broke.”

Jim raises his eyebrows. Sev’s grin fades a bit. Disaster avoided. Sebastian drinks some of his tea and feels Jim nodding beside him. “Ah, well, what kind of people would we be if we didn’t invite you to stay the night?” he asks, turning to look over at Sebastian at the end of it, as though he actually wants an answer to that. Sebastian’s on the brink of giving him one when Severin, once more smugly pleased, steals his cue and says, “The kind of people who sleep in cold beds.”

Sebastian has to admit to himself, finally, that the prospect isn’t that bad. It’s still absolutely terrifying, only not really, not in the way it was earlier. He’s not going to die from this, and he’s not going to lose his home or his current lover because his brother got randy. Jim’s got him, Jim still wants him, and they’re going to have some harmless fun. Sebastian has never been one to turn down harmless fun before, and he isn’t about to start now. He takes another silent sip of tea, awaiting a reaction from Jim first, as he always does. It’s generally the smart thing to do.

And Jim – Jim laughs, like this joke is actually funny. It’s been a good while since Sebastian heard it, and it gives him goose flesh on instinct, although he’s not sure why. He drinks more tea in the hopes that it’ll go away. It does help somewhat, and he’s grateful.

“You think we’re taking you into bed with us, just because you used to fuck him when you were horny teenage boys?” Jim says, not skeptically or ironically but really quite mockingly, as though the idea is beyond absurd. That makes Sebastian happy, in a way he knows he shouldn’t be, because he had to do fuck all to get where he is today. It’s always bothered him that Sev can get whatever he fucking wants with the wink of an eye. Then again, Sev’s never had very big ambitions. This might just be the most ambitious project he’s ever attempted – another pleased feeling in Seb’s chest. As far as sibling rivalry goes, it does feel better to be on the winning side.

“Nah,” says Severin, as always completely oblivious to the fact that he’s losing, as always just thundering on as though nothing had ever happened; “I think you’ll take me to bed because I’m a damn good shag.”

Jim raises his eyebrows silently, as though he’s mentally beating himself up for not seeing this coming – but just for a moment, before he puts his tea cup down and turns towards Sebastian. “Do you want him, Sebastian?” he asks, chin up, clearly intent on actually hearing him out. Sebastian glances over at Severin, their eyes meet, and—

\-- they’re fifteen years old again, painfully hard, dry-humping each other on Sev’s bed whilst kissing, kissing because it will help them keep silent and fuck Sebastian used to be such a sucker but then again does it really matter when kissing feels so good and their goal is to get off as quickly as possible, at a thousand miles an hour before someone else can push the door open looking for an empty room and find them here, because it’s no fun without a little risk, is it—

Sebastian looks away, back to Jim. His mouth has gone dry. “Yes. Yes, I want him.”

It should be much more unsettling when Severin’s grin spreads over Jim’s face than it actually is. “Perfect.”


	2. Chapter 2

Of course it's not that easy. Work ends up doing what it does best, getting in the way. The people Jim located realised that they were being watched and Sebastian, along with his best gun men, ended up killing them all - standard protocol whenever the firm or its head is running the risk of being compromised. Jim stayed home throughout, whispering orders and encouragements in Sebastian's ear. He had a few close calls, but then again, he always does.

Once they've sent in the cleanup crew and Sebastian's gone home, it's already well past eleven. He's covered in dirt and grime and blood, both his own and that of others. Severin is still home when he gets there, a hovering presence at the edges of his consciousness even though he can’t see him. He can see Jim, though, can see Jim because Jim appears in the hallway almost the exact moment Sebastian does. He’s pulled on a pair of soft worn jeans, but is otherwise dressed exactly the way he was when Sebastian left – which Sebastian is too, of course. No time to change when someone sounds an alarm.

There’s a certain relief in Jim’s eyes, Sebastian thinks, dropping his bag on the floor. Even though the man heard him, heard his every curse word and fired shot and exhausted grunt, it must be different seeing the results of their not-so-surprise attack up close like this. Jim, who connects Sebastian’s blood with Sebastian’s death, stays his distance as though getting any closer would be physically painful. Severin, who connects Sebastian’s blood with Sebastian’s aching hard cock in his mouth, doesn’t stop by the door frame when he just becomes visible in it, heading their way from the living room – he keeps walking, closer and closer, a light in his eye as though he’s already gotten on his knees.

Sev hasn’t gotten more than halfway down the corridor before Jim steps out in between them and takes the few steps he has to in order to reach Sebastian. He’s silent, completely silent, and even Sev who doesn’t know Jim all that well seems to realize that it’s a silence that means trouble. Then again, the man has to have some base instincts in order to survive the criminal underworld of London, doesn’t he? Sebastian silently gives him that as he stops short. Not that he has much of a choice, not when Jim’s already reaching up to unzip Sebastian’s black hoodie – black to hide as many unfortunate stains as humanly possible – in order to see what’s underneath.

When a visual control can’t tell apart the blood splattered onto Sebastian as he killed others and the blood Sebastian has bled himself, Jim moves in to touch instead, to use his other senses to find the pressure points where Sebastian’s been hurt. It doesn’t take too long before his fingers reach a spot that makes Sebastian instinctively flinch away.

“Oh, tiger,” Jim whispers softly, looking up at Sebastian as though he’s made of glass and someone’s carelessly dropped him onto the floor. Severin is still just staring from across the hallway, uncertain of where he fits in. The truth is that he doesn’t. Sebastian doesn’t put himself in harm’s way any more than he absolutely has to for the good of the firm these days, but when he does, and comes back in a bad way, what follows is all but a set routine. The set routines of the Moriarty household have no room for Severin Moran, no matter what sort of punch line he decides to drop. Sebastian is however grateful that Severin doesn’t even try to interrupt, not by word nor by action, as Jim turns around and leads Sebastian into the bedroom – their bedroom. Sebastian shuts the door behind them and shuts Sev from his mind. Right now, it’s just he and Jim, just he and his concerned lover, not his dominating boss. If it wasn’t so terrifying to see how grateful Jim is that he’s come back alive, he’d almost appreciate the difference.

They don’t stop in the bedroom. Jim keeps pulling him along into the bathroom, although Sebastian lets that door remain open. They’ve got nothing to worry about now, and there’s no reason to waste energy on the doors, not when he’s got Jim here and he has to make sure Jim knows he’s all right and will remain all right.

That’s however not the only reason Sebastian lets himself remain passive right now, lets Jim do all the work, simply lifts his arms when Jim pulls his soiled t-shirt over his head. He needs this, needs a reward for pushing through, needs something soft and gentle in contrast to the painfully real violence and pain and confusion of a battle. There’s not quite anything like this, like Jim now reaching for his belt to take of his trousers for him, to settle his nerves enough that he’s able to sleep through the following night. The trousers drop and he steps out of them, knowing what’s coming next.

Jim’s nimble fingers fly over his body, going here and there, seeking out the nick at his left hip where someone managed to slice a knife through the fabric of his clothes just before they went down, the place on his shoulder where a bullet grazed it – friendly fire – on the way into the head of another man, the spot underneath his right knee where something – and he doesn’t have any idea what – burned a small, irregular mark into his skin. Once Jim’s satisfied that this is the worst damage that Sebastian has suffered, it’s like someone flicks a switch in his head to turn him more human again, more himself, because Sebastian’s all right and so he can afford to be, too. It’s only then that Jim, still on his knees, decides to break the silence.

“You’ve ruined your gift,” is what he says, voice gentler than normal again, as he reaches up to touch the knickers that Sebastian is still wearing, running a finger along the dark green silk. Jim’s right, of course. The fabric is stained with blood and has been sliced open where the knife got him, rendering them beyond saving. He feels a bang of irrational guilt, like he actually let Jim down. No. He doesn’t want that. 

“I’m sorry, boss,” he says regardless, lowering his head just that little bit, like a dog that got caught chewing on his master’s favourite slipper. It feels like that, too, but the soft kiss to his thigh lets him know this isn’t meant to hurt him.

“If you weren’t already so gorgeously bruised, I would’ve given you another spanking,” Jim says, but his words are too soft-spoken and gentle to mean anything at all. Regardless, Sebastian nods, playing along. It’s what is expected of him, so it’s what he’ll do. He knows this dance as well as Jim does, so he isn’t surprised when Jim leans in to kiss his thigh once more, higher up, this time. He’s got blood there, probably his own although he can’t be certain, but it doesn’t seem to bother to Jim. It never seems to bother Jim, and Sebastian is glad, because the fact that he gets to tangle his hands in Jim’s short hair, gripping at what strands he can, makes him happy. The fact that Jim’s mouth isn’t headed towards his cock either, but rather up to the wound, is equally pleasing.

It’s another part of their set routine, this, Jim licking him clean of all of the blood and then, once he’s reached that far, licking the wound in the same way Sebastian would go about giving a rim job - he licks around it, carefully tasting the edges, before he begins to tease it open. Sebastian can’t help but feel like he’s got Jim inside of him whenever that happens, like he leaves little pieces of himself before he goes on to search out the next wound. Jim does this to all Sebastian’s cuts and scrapes, no matter how minor, and he can feel Jim there under his skin whenever he tries, burning hot underneath his otherwise sensationless scars. He loves that bit more than the sex he knows is sure to come later on.

Once Jim has finished this for all the three wounds Sebastian had gotten, he straightens up and takes a step back. Knowing what’s expected of him, Sebastian reaches down to push the underwear off, too, leaving them on the same little pile with all his other ruined clothes. He’s going to have to throw it all out. Not that it’s such a big loss, except for perhaps the panties. He’d liked those. They were comfortable as well as beautiful. He doesn’t get to mourn the loss for long before Jim starts to undress himself, too, nodding for Sebastian to go ahead into the shower first. It’s a moment of privacy and calming down that’s welcome to him, because today is for taking it slow. 

Sebastian makes the most of it, turning the water on to the temperature he likes it to be and letting his mind wander as it will. He feels calmer now; the confusion he felt the first time he got ushered in here, unsure of what Jim could possibly want with him, isn’t present at all anymore. He’s come to understand that this is just another kind of after care, not after care for what Jim has done himself but after care for what Jim’s orders resulted in. It’s all the same, in the end. Pain and then comfort. As far as masters go, Jim Moriarty really is one of the best - so long as you stay good to him, of course. This works out fine, because Sebastian is one of the best, too. He closes his eyes and finds comfort in that thought. 

Even so, Jim is still selfish above all else, his own servant above all else, and this shows in big and small, like how he immediately adjusts the temperature of the water to his own liking instead, much warmer than Sebastian’s own tastes. Not that Sebastian ever complains; they don’t shower together often enough that it matters that much. Right now, Jim’s body next to his own is such a comfort that he can imagine putting up with pretty much anything to have it. He leans into it and is rewarded with an arm moving around his chest, keeping him steady. He leans further into the touch, greedy for more comfort, and Jim kisses the back of his neck before he leans away to reach for the soap.

"Not yet, Tiger. You're filthy."

He doesn't stay filthy for long. Jim's gentle hands clean him up slowly and languidly, moving over his body in a way they rarely ever do at other times. The soap stings in his wounds, but it's a good kind of sting, the kind that lets him know bacteria is dying and way is made for fresh scar tissue to grow out, to cover what Jim has given him to keep beneath his skin. It’s been long since he worried about getting scars; these days, he wears them with pride. He’s gotten so many of them from Jim or for Jim, and it’s impossible to feel ashamed about that.

Jim’s hands stay on him for far longer than it takes to wash him clean. It relaxes him further, the massage-like gestures underneath the too warm water, which nonetheless works some magic on his body, forcing his muscles to slack. Jim’s hands create their own kind of magic, making his body react to his touches the way it always does. It’s not long before he’s moaning, and when Jim starts kissing his neck again, it feels a natural part of what they’re doing.

This time, Jim doesn’t protest when Sebastian starts to move against him. He intends to turn around, to kiss Jim on the lips, to return the gentle touches and wash him clean, too, help wash off all the worry and care he knows Jim detests being riddled with, but he doesn’t have the time. Apparently he’s more relaxed than he even realized, more at peace inside his own mind, because he doesn’t even notice Jim’s reached for the lube until his fingers, slick with the oil based lubricant they keep in their shower, reach down between his cheeks.

Being as relaxed as he is, as used as he is to having Jim inside of him, it wouldn’t have taken long to work him open if Jim had wished to take the quick route. He doesn’t, though, not like this. Rather, he takes his time, about it, gently teasing at first, applying more lube to make sure that the experience is altogether painless. Normally, Sebastian adores the feeling of being filled too full, the chafing of being not quite ready to take what he’s given, but he can understand why Jim needs it to be like this. Just in case, next time, Sebastian isn’t quite so lucky as to be that foot to the left that he needs to be to survive. Just to make sure that he knows what Jim won’t ever say in words. And he knows; by God, he knows.

When Jim finally pushes into him, it’s still gentle and soft in a way Jim never is with him otherwise. It’s awkward for them to do it standing, because Sebastian is that much taller, and he has to bend over quite far, pressing his forehead to the wall so that they’ll both fit in the shower stall. He doesn’t mind it anyway, because it feels grounding, helps him remember that this isn’t reality in the same way yesterday was, when he got the spanking of his life, or the day before that, when Jim tied him up with a vibrator in for the better part of an hour. This is what he gets in between the moments that make up their life, in between their real relationship. This is what he gets when they enter a state of emergency, and reality doesn’t apply any more.

This is what he craves when his body has come home from war.


	3. Chapter 3

Even though they fell asleep in each other’s arms, Sebastian wakes up to find that Jim has rolled well back into his own side of the bed and is still deeply asleep. On the nights that Jim actually does sleep, Sebastian normally wakes up first, and this little everyday occurrence acts as a silent statement that they’re back to reality, now, that he can’t get away with being human any longer. That suits him fine; coming from Jim, anything else unnerves him if it lasts for too long.

Giving up on further rest, he gets out of bed and puts on a pair of boxers, forgoing a shirt. Their flat is warm, anyway, too warm in his opinion but of course just warm enough in Jim’s. It’s become home in much the same way as Westwood casually thrown over the arm of the sofa or the simple seductive power of creamy pale skin, home in a way that manages to be the complete opposite of the Afghan sand plains although it’s as similar as London ever gets. At least he has the weather to rely on, the cool damp of London before the morning fog has cleared.

Intent on making the most of it, Sebastian grabs his pack of cigarettes from the night stand and leaves the bedroom, meaning to go out on the balcony for a morning smoke. He doesn’t get further than the hallway, though, because a perfunctory glance into the kitchen reveals Severin, sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal out of their hundred-pound-a-piece porcelain, as though it was his own cheap IKEA shit. For a moment, all Sebastian can manage is to stare.

“I hope you got laid last night,” Severin says, without bothering to look up from whatever it is he’s reading on his phone – porn, Sebastian thinks, porn or a job offer, because it can’t be anything but with his brother. “I know how itchy it makes you when you can’t get someone to fuck you after a fight.”

Sebastian feels a sudden overwhelming hatred against his brother, hatred because he hasn’t a clue what the fuck he’s talking about, hatred because he dares be so casually obscene and ruin Sebastian’s tranquility forty-five minutes prematurely, hatred because they haven’t even spoken to each other in five fucking years, and yet, yet, Severin knows him just as well as his lover does, if not better, because does Jim actually do it for him or does he do it for himself and fuck Severin Moran up the arse with a lawn mower.

Sebastian stalks away without as much as a word, through the hallway, into the living room with the blanket and the pillow carelessly thrown over the sofa and then finally, blissfully, out into the chill air of outside, of London before it’s quite started moving. They live centrally enough that there’s just a tang of exhaust fumes to the air, a solid reminder that they’re actually in the middle of a living, moving city, but not in such a place that it gets crowded with tourists once the clock’s struck nine, either. Jim’s got good taste, Sebastian reflects as he lights his first cigarette of the morning. Bringing him home to such a nice place. He wonders for how long Jim lived here, before, remembered the smell of glue still clinging to the freshly renovated walls, and wonders how much of this was done to impress him. The thought makes him smile as he blows smoke out through his nose and watches it dissipate.

The door clicks open and Severin steps out, wearing his low cut jeans from yesterday. His cheap knickers – distastefully bright blue lace G-strings – are well visible above the waistline of them. Sebastian thinks about how that kind of underwear would’ve hurt a man with bigger balls and snorts to himself. Sev does have balls, you have to give him that. It’s pretty much his only good quality, after all.

“Can I have one?” he asks, pointing towards the pack of fags Sebastian’s still squeezing in his hand, and he hands it over silently. Sev slides a cig out, lights it, and then promptly pockets both the rest of the smokes and the lighter as though they’d been his own. No matter; Sebastian can steal them back later. He knows there’ll be plenty of opportunities. Severin Moran is like bedbugs or goutweed; once you’ve gotten it into your home, it won’t leave without some serious time and effort. At least it’s predictable, which is always a perk. Severin moans on his first exhale as though it was something other than concentrated cancer he was sucking down into his lungs, and that’s predictable, too. Same old brother, after all.

Sebastian turns towards him and, for the first time since he’s arrived, actually takes the time to look him over. He’s aged faster than Sebastian, he notices, with crow’s eyes and creases around the corners of his mouth much deeper and more pronounced than in Sebastian himself. It makes him feel somewhat smug. He’s thinner, though, much thinner, the kind of thin only teenage boys, junkies and the starving who still drink protein shakes are. Sebastian’s buffer, much buffer, and he knows – in theory – that he could take Sev in a fight. In practice, that’s a whole other matter. What’s that Fight Club quote? Skinny guys fight until they’re mincemeat? He has a feeling this goes for Sev especially.

“You’re hurt,” Severin says when Sebastian fails to make a comment about his looks, pointing down towards his hip. The wound’s stopped bleeding, wasn’t all that deep to begin with, but it’s there now, the ugly cut. The shoulder wound is visible, too, but it’s just a scrape, hardly worth mentioning next to all the other scars that accent his chest and arms. Most of them are Jim’s, now. It’s made him a different person than he was last he stood smoking with his brother like this. He clears his throat.

“Some fucker got lucky,” he says, throwing the butt of his cigarette over the railing of the balcony and watches it sail for the few seconds it takes before it reaches the ground, and that’s familiar, too. He’s highly aware that his brother is intruding on his set routines, but he lets him. He has a feeling that the only reason he hates Sev so much is that they’re so alike, really, deep down, and he’s pretty sure that if you can’t stand your own likes, you’ve got serious issues. Sebastian has always been one to reject that there’s anything wrong with him.

He thinks of Jim, saying happily, smugly, in that lilting Irish voice of his, “Oh, but I’m insane, you see,” as though it’s something to strive for, but he drops it. Jim can’t be present here, not between the two of them. There isn’t any room for him, not here. The thought makes Sebastian itch.

"Can I have another?" he asks, holding his hand out for his cigarettes and his lighter back. He doesn't mind giving away his smokes for now, but he got the lighter from Jim, and it's got sentimental value to him. Sev gives it back without fuss, because he knows he can't refuse, not with Seb, not if he wants to keep their friendship intact, and Sebastian is glad that at least he’s learned something through their lives together. Having that lighter back in his hand calms him back down further.

"So, did you get any last night?" Sev asks again, still smoking himself, with a sort of languid slowness that shows it's been a while, but not quite long enough that he's desperate. Again, that’s Jim echoing through Sebastian, and he does his best to drop it. He’s with Sev now, and Jim ought to leave the room as well as his mind in the same way that Severin did last night. It’s not quite as easy to shut out his boss, though, but he tries harder. They’ll still be solid, that was the message yesterday, and Jim wouldn’t have told him to drop his pants for his brother unless he wanted them to resume their sexual relationship. This is all fine.

In the end, he doesn’t give Sev any reply this time either, just lights his cigarette in tense silence. Severin laughs at that, as though Seb was the one who had dropped one of his own famous punchlines.

“Of course you did,” he muses, turning around and leaning back against the railing in an obvious attempt at catching Sebastian’s eye, at reading his reaction to this outright statement, followed by another one of those things that have long ago lost their shock value; “I know you were hard the whole ride home.”

And of course he had been, painfully hard in his trousers as the adrenaline spread through his body, forcing it to become as alert and ready - ready for battle, ready for fucking, ready for dying - as it could possibly be. Sev knows this because he has the exact same trait, knows this because when they were teens who had just begun to explore a life of crime, they had to stop their escape route on more than one heist to rut against each other desperately in some dank alley way, bags full of stolen shoes and jewelry dropped around their feet as though they weren’t important in the least. Sebastian sucks harder on his cigarette in an attempt to escape the memories, but only succeeds to give himself away.

“It’s okay, you know,” Severin says, suddenly as casual as though they were discussing the weather, because he knows what Sebastian wants, now, knows for sure that this is a done deal and that it’s actually going to happen. He thinks that he can afford to take his time and that, more than anything, makes Sebastian give in. He’s picked up a little something in all their years together, too; what Severin is convinced he can get, he always has in the end. Sebastian takes another deep drag before he carefully puts the cigarette out against the railing and lays it down there, to be picked up later, once whatever it is they are going to do has been done. 

He turns towards Severin completely once he’s disposed of it, to give the man his full and undivided attention. He’s facing the street now, Sev the flat, and the feeling of knowing that they’re going to touch each other springs up suddenly as their eyes meet. Knowing that they’re going to go through with this extreme tabu brings on equal parts excitement and nostalgia and Sebastian takes a step forward. This is going to be different to what he and Jim had last night, he can already tell, because where Jim wanted a slow, deliberate just-in-case-you-don’t-make-it-next-time, what Severin wants is a big, flashy hell-we-made-it-out-alive. The situation is so tightly connected to running for his life that the adrenaline starts going around his veins again, and they both realise what they want at the same time; Sev has barely lifted his hand to gesture for Seb to get down before Seb’s knees hit the concrete floor.

It’s hurried between them, but then again, it always has been. Severin undoes the button of his fly and Sebastian does the zipper at the same time, hands working together in a coordination made possible by muscle memory. The tiny knickers can barely hold Sev’s erection in place and Sebastian doesn’t bother to try and pull them down, not when they’re riding so high on Severin’s hips; he just shoves them aside so that Sev’s cock springs free, Sev who is surely this hard because the same things are echoing through his head as Sebastian’s, the memory of police sirens cutting through an all-encompassing orgasm, of cum running down his chin for lap two of their race against the law.

If Sebastian closed his eyes, it would be so easy to get lost in twenty-year-old scenarios, forgetting they’re here and now, so he does. Jim was never there twenty years ago. Sev, ever pragmatic, rubs his cock against Sebastian’s lips, and all Sebastian has to do now is open them.

It feels strange to be sucking someone who isn’t Jim, to hear curse words and moans thrown around casually in a way Jim could never do, to suck a cock that’s bigger than Jim’s and shaped in a different way. It’s identical to his own, he knows, because they’ve established it before, and muscle memory takes over once more as he lets his body go, finally dropping its dual loyalties from his mind and just acting.

Severin’s taste is familiar, dirty in a way that doesn’t wash off, but he likes it. It feels like home, in a way, feels like survival and success, being at the service of his younger brother like this, and Sebastian loves it. He loves it. Soon, he’s gotten lost in it, lost in the feeling of this, so familiar and yet so new. Severin’s bucking his hips forward, trying to push past his gag reflex and, finally, succeeding, because Jim has trained him well but Jim isn’t here now, just the two of them, just the two of them moving together and saliva running obscenely down his chin.

He couldn’t tell how long it’s taken him to bring Sev to orgasm if he tried, but it seemed just long enough, because it was so easy for him to read Sev and to know that, once he’d come, it was time to get back up and start running again. It’s no wonder giving head is all the calm he needs, even now, when the habit was forced on him from such an early age. Again, Sev’s always been the one to show him what he likes and teach him what he needs, and in this instance, what he needs is just what he gets - Severin’s come in his mouth, coming and coming and coming. It takes him a moment to realise that it’s all right for him to swallow, that it’s only Jim who wants him to hold the come in his mouth until he’s told it’s all right. Severin couldn’t care less, and a glance upwards confirms this; his eyes are closed and the cigarette is still hanging from the corner of his mouth. Sebastian falls back on his heels and the hand Severin had put in his hair falls to the side just as the balcony door opens.

Both men turn to look and end up facing Jim, who’s obviously just woken up. Sebastian feels ashamed and lowers his eyes, and he can still tell that next to him, Sev’s swelling with pride. He thinks this is a contest and he thinks that he’s someone gotten ahead in it, which Seb can’t help but pity him for. No one can challenge Jim's position, and he's glad that at least Jim isn't too stupid to realise that. He doesn't want his brother dead.

"There’s certainly a mouth on you," Jim says, disapproving look firmly in place, "but you didn’y really have to wake up the entire neighbourhood." 

If Sebastian had been one to blush, he would've. Severin, however, doesn't even have the decency to realise he's done something wrong, just tosses the cigarette off the balcony - the fucking cigarette which he's had in his mouth throughout - and Jim finally realises that's as much of a reaction he's gonna get. Fine, then. Fine. He makes an impatient gesture. "Go on, then," Jim says. "Return the favour. I'm waiting."

There's a tense moment before the scale tips, but then Sebastian remembers where his loyalty lies these days and stands. Sev seems to realise that he's got the majority against him and takes a step up to give Sebastian a soft kiss, which tastes like smoke and come and grime, and then Sev's the one who's kneeling. 

Sebastian isn't wearing anything underneath his thin cotton trousers, and Sev is quick to discover. Of course he can’t just remove them, though, can’t just pull them down and get right to it; he has to make a point of stroking Sebastian through them, of kissing him through the fabric and making bedroom eyes up at his brother. Severin is the biggest fucking cock tease Sebastian has ever met, because oh yes he delivers in the end, but by that time, you’re so out of your mind you’re not even sure you want it any longer. As it turns out, this was one of the many things his mind had decided to simply delete about his brother during the years they spent apart. It doesn’t take him long to remember, though, not once Sev’s down on his knees.

By the time he’s got Severin’s lips on his bare skin, he’s mewling and moaning so loudly and desperately he’s sure he can rival Sev. Jim, who’s been hanging back the entire time, steps up then, tsking. “For god’s sake, give them their peace,” he says, talking as though he’s talking about the entire world, but Sebastian can’t help it; his only reply is another breathless moan. He’s itching for a cigarette but gets Jim instead, Jim who’s on him in two steps, crushing their mouths together hungrily, and _oh, fuck._

It’s like having them devouring him from both ends, like they’re both vampires aggressively fighting for prey, and he doesn’t care. It’s impossible to care about anything with that amount of stimulation coming at him high and low and he must’ve done something really, really well to deserve this, he thinks suddenly, must’ve really pleased Jim somehow or he wouldn’t have been allowed all this pleasure. But he hasn’t been good, has he? It’s too much of a struggle trying to recall, so he gives up, gives in, and decides that if he hasn’t, he’ll simply make that up in the future. A sort of reward in advance, yes, that’s a good way of thinking about it. That’s perfect.

And it really is perfect. It’s perfect that it takes Sev for fucking ever to get on with it, that his brother his driving him absolutely insane, and it’s perfect that Jim still tries to steal his thunder and Sebastian’s attention and it’s perfect that Jim is actually coming out ahead, that it’s his boss, after all, who’s the most on his mind even as his knees buckle and he has to lean back against the wall not to fall over or collapse completely, and it’s most definitely perfect that he cries out Jim’s name when he’s about to come, moans it into the other man’s mouth as though he was somehow using two mouths on Sebastian and so much for shutting the boss out, but it doesn’t matter because then he’s coming, clinging mindless to anything he can hold on to.

It’s mere moments afterwards that he has to wonder what he’s going to feel like when they decide that they’d both like to take pleasure from him all at once, and a shiver runs down his spine. He’s not even sure he wants to find out, although there’s a light in Jim’s eyes as he pulls back that gives Sebastian the itching suspicion that he won’t have a choice. Maybe that’s for the best, though. Being a good boy, the way he always is a good boy, the way Sev has never understood.

That doesn’t seem to matter much when Jim’s hand closes around the scruff of his neck, though. It’s a touch he used on Sebastian at first, grabbing him _just so_ while joking - only not joking at all - that he was an untrained little tiger cub that someone had to show some tough love. Severin, who hasn’t a clue what the touch implies, none the less freezes up on his knees. Maybe because Jim’s hands are so cold, always so cold to someone with a natural body temperature of 38.5 degrees. 

“Fuck off,” he says very simply, rolling his head on his neck, and when Severin moves to a stand it almost looks as though Jim lifted him. He leaves without another word, just sends Sebastian a look that even he can’t decode right now, can’t be bothered to try, honestly, not when Jim’s right there. It’s so easy to give the man his whole focus and all of his attention. It’s not the first time he realises he’d do anything for this man, really anything.

“On your knees,” Jim says, and Sebastian obeys, unthinkingly. Sev’s gone, and Jim is all there is, and in a way, that’s a relief. Sebastian wonders if there was some code word, some sleeping agent kind of thing, and Jim just so happened to crack the code. It doesn’t feel at all impossible. Then again, maybe he’s just still disoriented from his orgasm. That might be part of it, too.

“Tell me who you love the best,” Jim demands, reaching out to run his hand through Sebastian’s hair in a very affectionate way. Sebastian knows that the soft pat could at any time turn into an iron fisted grip on his hair, making him whimper with pain, and he looks forward to that, so he says nothing. Just like he thought, Jim grabs and twists. Painful. Predictable. Familiar.

Perfect.

“I love you,” he says, and he means it more than ever. Jim’s face relaxes into a soft smile.

“Why don’t you show me just how much?” Jim suggests, almost kindly, and Sebastian is more than happy to.


	4. Chapter 4

_Go get dressed_ , he’d said. _You aren’t mentally incompetent, are you_ , he’d said. Sebastian’s almost starting to wonder if he actually is, or if there’s just something wrong with the particular set of lingerie that Jim had bought him. He knows, in theory, that the length of the straps adjusts the very same way that the straps of a backpack do, and that it should be easier to adjust them anyway, because he can actually _see_ what he’s doing, but that’s in theory. In practice, it doesn’t matter how he long he makes them, how hard he pulls at them; they end up snapping loose from the stockings the _moment_ he moves. It’s so frustrating he’s even lost his initial erection, but it was an order from Jim, and orders from Jim have to be carried through, so he keeps at it long after someone - Sev, most likely - has finished with the dishes in the other room.

In the end, it takes him forty minutes to get ready. He’s never spent so long putting on so little, and when he stands, he’s very glad that at least Jim didn’t buy him high heeled shoes. Trying to walk in these stockings is awkward, and he can’t help but imagine what it would’ve been like if he’d had the shoes to wobble on as well. Still, he feels naked. Very naked. More naked than he feels in nothing at all, because at least that way, everything’s equally exposed; like this, the only things exposed from the waist down is his cock, his balls, and his arse. It feels backwards, and it feels wrong, and thinking about walking around this way, with both Jim and Sev able to ogle him as much as they’d like, is so much more exciting than it has any right to be. 

By the time he finds them in the living room, he’s already hard. If he wasn’t, he might’ve been wondering what the two of them have to talk about, but now he’s gained their attention before he’s even gained the room. They’re both staring and he’s almost proud for not blushing before Jim says, “Well, aren’t we lucky you don’t have any knickers to wear,” and Severin laughs nervously. Fucking hell; if it’s enough to make Sev nervous, it’s going to kill him. 

His eyes flick over to Jim, the way they always do when he’s uncertain, and the smiles he gets in return is not in any way calming, except it is, anyway. His heart beats even faster but his stomach settles back down where it belongs and he manages to smile back. It’s not going to hurt, this, at least not any more than it should. It’s no fun without a little pain, after all.

“There we go,” Jim cooes, shifting over and patting the sofa in the space that’s created in between himself and Severin, and Sebastian walks over to sit down like a good boy. At this point, all Sev does is stare, and Sebastian supposes that it must be quite an experience for him, watching how smoothly he and Jim work together. They’d have to, running the business they do. Not that Sev’s got a clue about that, though, which is probably for the best. He’d just beg for a job.

Sebastian’s barely sat down when Jim’s hand is on his thigh, gently moving over the stocking. It’s a queer sensation, experiencing the touch through the sheer fabric, and it makes him shiver, which only makes Jim’s smile widen. Sebastian meets his eyes and suddenly, he just _knows._

“You want to share me,” he says, blurts out, really, and Jim nods, still with that big fucking smile on his face, and Severin reaches out from behind to touch his bare shoulder. He’s suddenly very aware they they’re both fully dressed and here he is, wearing nothing but garters and stockings. The touch as well as the thought makes him shiver, cock swelling, and then Jim’s leaned in and they’re kissing again, kissing softly like they did last night, but not quite, because it’s not safe kissing this time. It’s distracting, but it’s illboding, and there’re three hands on him now; Jim’s, slowly making it up his thigh, and Sev’s, coming in around his waist to all but trap him. So that’s the way it’s going to be, he thinks; Sev in his arse and Jim in his mouth. He’s already looking forward to that, honestly. Jim’s not little, but Sev’s bigger, and there’s nothing Sebastian adores like the feeling of being absolutely filled. 

He’s let his mind wander, he abruptly realises as Sev’s fingers close around his nipple and pinches. Sebastian gasps into Jim’s mouth, something he never would’ve done if he’d been prepared, and Jim chuckles as he pulls back away from their kiss. By then, Jim’s hand has reached his groin, but instead of going upwards to stroke his erection like Sebastian wishes it would, Jim moves his hand down to cup Sebastian’s balls, massaging them in a way that feels nice but also, again, reminds Sebastian of just how fucking exposed he is.

“Do you think you can take us both, tiger?” Jim asks, almost coos, as he keeps rolling Sebastian’s balls in his hand, and it takes him a couple of extra seconds to catch the implications. By that time, Sev’s other hand has found his other nipple, and a new pinch makes him moan louder. He remembers their experiments with clothing pins when they were kids and he nods.

“Y-yes, boss,” he says, because no matter what _take us both_ really means, Sebastian is sure that he can do it. He wonders if he’s understood this right, and in that case, how it’s going to work, in a practical sense. It’s bound to be the most he’s ever taken, which is another distraction all in its own because goddamn how good that’s going to feel, and then Severin’s kissing his neck and he forgets to be worried as he melts into the touch, tipping his head backwards to give him a better reach which also means lifting his chin, and then Jim’s pounced him too and they’re kissing, kissing, kissing as Sev’s hands start to travel down over his body and scoots closer. His clothed chest presses against Sebastian’s back and Jim all but climbs into his lap, just as fully dressed. He’s sandwiched between them and weeping hard already, and yet, he has the mind to worry about leaving stains on Jim’s suit. 

Not that Jim seems to think about that, moving in close and closer. Sebastian’s own hands move up around his boss’ waist, inside of the jacket but outside of the shirt, and he feels even more naked because his boss isn’t. He wants to even the playing field a little, but he knows that’s not the way it works with the boss. If Jim had wanted to be naked, he would’ve been naked, and there’s a reason that he’s running the risk of tainting his Egyptian cotton with sweat and come like this. Seb’s a good boy and keeps his hands to himself. Sev doesn’t.

He’s always been impatient when it comes to his own pleasure, a bizarre contrast to how he loves to prolong the teasing of others, but then again, it’s just as self-serving. Sebastian has never minded giving in to his brother’s selfish needs, though, and this time is no exception. He’s just as desperate for it anyway when Sev’s hand moves down to cup his arse, moving not too discreetly towards his hole - which is very awkward, with Jim on his lap. The groping goes on for a while, Sebastian too involved with kissing Jim and too desperately helpless to try and pull away in order to get more than he’s already got. It’s Jim who finally realises it’s time to move on, in the end, and pulls back. 

“Aren’t the two of you just gorgeous together,” he says, smirking lightly as he stands up and stands back. “Why don’t you get started, darlings? I’ll just slip into something more comfortable.”

And with that, Jim’s left them to their own devices. For a moment, Sebastian aches for Jim to come back and touch him again, for Jim’s approval, but it goes away quickly when Sev pushes on him insistently, to try and get him on his knees. Sebastian is happy to obey the near frustrated move, damnit he receives from behind, getting on his hands and knees on his couch and putting himself on full display from behind for his brother, showing his arse and his balls hanging down between his legs which feels even more exposed because finally, fucking finally, the fucking garters don’t snap loose from the stockings. He can see a tube of lube by the coffee table leg from here, probably left there by Jim who always plans these things ahead, but Sev isn’t patient enough to look around for lube nor to ask Seb if there’s any around. Instead, he pushes a finger in dry. 

He’d forgotten that, how careless Sev is, but one finger is fine. He’s taken more than that dry before - Jim’s not always patient, either - and come out all right in the end. It goes in easy, but it’s not enough for Sev, who keeps going. With no condom, two fingers is pushing it, and even Sev must be able to tell since he actually slows down, trying to scissor Sebastian in a way that shows it’s been a while since he did this, too. So his brother has kept to girls latey, then. Nothing wrong with that. There’s a line, though, and Sebastian is prepared to say that the line is drawn when he hears his brother gather up mucus at the back of his throat to spit, because when Sebastian can choose between his brother’s spit and twenty dollar an ounce lube, he’s always going to go with the latter. 

“Lube,” he manages to groan, bending over just in time to avoid Severin spitting. His erection touches the garter belt from this new angle, and the unexpected thrill of silk against the head of his cock makes him moan - a moan of pleasure that seems to encourage Sev to try and drive his fingers a bit deeper, much deeper than is strictly needed nor practical to stretch him out. Jim would never do that, something so _filthy_ , and it’s more of a turn on than Sebastian expected to actually have someone willing to touch him like this again. So shamelessly. 

It only takes him a moment to recover the lubricant and hand it over the shoulder to Severin, who takes it without comment and squeeze some directly out onto Sebastian’s skin. It’s cool, but that’s fine, because the temperature in itself helps to sooth the little burn Sebastian hadn’t even realised was building up under Sev’s touches. It’s all fine now, though, all the way it should be. The only thing really missing is Jim, but then there’re three fingers inside of him and missing his boss seems absolutely ridiculous. 

No, if there’s anything he ought to be thinking about, it is that three fingers are a lot of preparation to be coming from Sev, especially when there’s actual lube to be used. Between them, it’s almost always been a quick rim job and as much saliva as they could manage, and this is excessive compared to that, especially seeing how busily Jim has been fucking him, how easily stretched he is in general these days. Perhaps, oh god, perhaps that means Jim is coming back, perhaps it means that Sebastian read him correctly after all, and that’s just about as terrifying as it is fantastic. 

When Sev slips in a fourth finger too, Sebastian wastes an entire moment wondering if maybe Sev is going to fist him instead of fuck him, and oh, that’s a good thought too, another absolutely filthy idea of being filled stock full, and he moans and pushes back harder on Sev, making the fingers go deeper again and oh _fuck_ , what if Sev’s actually going to do it, push his thumb in too and then the rest of his hand, stretching Sebastian wider than he’s ever been before until he’s got Sev inside him up to the wrist and if Sev hadn’t decided to pull back that exact moment, he might well have come from the thought alone.

The emptiness in his arse bothers him and he realises suddenly that he’s all but desperate to be fucked now, bucking back against nothing in a way that’s so absolutely fucking ridiculous that even Sev reacts, saying, “For fuck’s sake, Bastian,” and it’s the nickname more than anything that makes Sebastian look over his shoulder. Severin’s opened his fly and hitched his trousers and knickers down over his hips, which leaves his cock standing up straight, hard and purple and begging to be taken. Sebastian realises what’s expected of him and gets up to move over, sitting down in his brother’s lap.

With some help from Severin’s hand, his cock slides in easily into Sebastian, and the feeling is so different than that of fingers. Even though it’s not the same stretch, it’s so much fuller like this, making him feel that much tighter and harder all at once. He’s not used to this position, not facing the person he’s riding, and it’s a little strange for him to find a tempo. He’s not quite succeeded when Jim comes back into the room, completely naked, and if he’d been a little less needy he would’ve frozen up on Severin’s cock, feeling busted. Now, all he can do is close his eyes and beg that this was what was supposed to happen, that he won’t get punished - or at the very least that they’ll let him come first. God, he needs to come.

He doesn’t get to work his way towards orgasm for more than a couple trusts before Severin’s arm comes up from behind to hold him still against his chest, which of course earns him a disappointed sigh, but then he opens his eyes and there’s Jim, staring down at him, and this time he actually freezes up because Jim has that look in his eye that’s all insane need, the one that makes Sebastian feel like he’s the only person who exists in the whole world. He swallows and suddenly just _knows_. Jim wants him, too. Jim wants him at the same time. The man steps forward and Sebastian leans further back against Severin’s chest, spreading his legs as the silence between them seems to tense up further. Oh, dear lord. He must’ve been _really_ good.

“Good boy,” Jim does indeed say, stepping in between Sebastian’s thighs. He reaches down and strokes over Sebastian’s arse, Severin’s cock, moving his hand over them both for a little while before he turns his hand over to push a finger in together with Sev’s cock and Sebastian moans helplessly, suddenly desperate for more. No matter how strange this feels, no matter how unused he is to the sensation, he knows as surely as he’s ever known anything that he wants this, needs this, even, needs Jim inside of him too _right fucking now._

Of course it’s not that easy, and no matter how impatient Sebastian is, no matter how restless he can feel Severin getting underneath him, Jim takes his time, working his fingers deeper into Sebastian, working in more of them, and now he’s actually very grateful that Sev took as much time and lube as he did. Doing this with nothing but spit, he would’ve torn. Doing this with high quality lube, it’s amazing. Absolutely amazing. 

Jim really takes his time with it, though, adding more fingers than Sebastian ever thought was necessary, stretching him wider and wider and wider, and all he can do is moan helplessly and squirm in his brother’s surprisingly strong hold. He’s barely coherent enough to beg towards the end of it, and he’s glad that he’s got these two men here doing it with him, these two men who are the only men that he has ever trusted, because it allows him to give up control and allow himself to be this completely vulnerable and needy in their arms.

His chest is heaving and he’s dripping with sweat, desperate to touch himself and desperate for Jim but at the same time much too well-trained to try for either, so he just lies there, panting and squirming around Severin’s cock and Jim’s fingers and just wishing for this to go on, wishing for more. By the time Jim finally pulls his fingers back, Sebastian’s trembling and all but sobbing, but Sev’s got him, and no matter what else there is between them these days, that means Sebastian’s safe. Safe, and about to have his brains fucked out, he’s sure.

A gentle tap to his nose brings him back to reality somewhat, Jim’s universal sign for _pay attention_ , so Sebastian does, opening his eyes and really looking up at Jim, pushing away the haze of arousal he’s let himself slip so deep down into and focusing on his boss. Jim doesn’t say anything, but they make eye contact for a while, and Jim’s properly looking, too, and it makes Sebastian very, very happy that they’ve established their relationship so well that all it takes is a look between them to give the go-ahead. Jim steps closer, and Sebastian relaxes from the jaw down as Sev holds him closer, and he wonders briefly what his brother’s getting out of this, but then again, Sev was never shy about sharing. That’s one of Jim’s traits. 

Not one that’s very present now, though, because fuck, he’s so close to his brother that Sev’s shirt is stuck to his own back because of how much he’s sweating, sweating even though he’s so close to being completely naked. Taking all of this is putting a strain on his body, although it’s not like he minds. The feeling is worth it, absolutely worth it, and then Jim’s suddenly bracing himself against Sebastian’s body and against the sofa and he can feel the head of Jim’s cock, brushing against the underside of his balls, and then his hole. It’s like he didn’t quite realise until that moment just what it _means_ to have two cocks inside of him all at once, and it hurts when Jim starts pushing ahead, trying to get inside, but then it is as if something gives way and he’s right back in a stage where a helpless moan is the only possible response. Behind him, Severin swears and bucks his hips, and Sebastian’s toes curl when Jim pushes deeper inside at the same time.

He’s never taken this much in his life and he’s never felt this full, no matter what else he’s been fucked with, and the feeling is almost more than he can handle - but only almost. As the two men who are with him both begin to thrust in and out, not quite in time with one another, he can’t help but think that it’s so very, very worth it, and even through his haze of arousal he’s so very grateful to Jim for having given him this opportunity. It’s all he ever wanted, and he hardly thinks it can get any better, but then a big hand wraps around his cock and a small one presses down on the back of his neck and oh, oh god. He could happily die like this.

They keep fucking him, not quite in time with one another, Severin withdrawing as Jim pushes deeper, but neither ever leaving him completely. The angles aren’t perfect and he can imagine it’s awkward for Jim to keep both time and balance, but somehow that doesn’t matter either. Jim must be enjoying himself regardless, because he’s moaning into Sebastian’s ear, a sort of heavy breathing that Sebastian’s come to associate with pleasure rather than physical exhausting only after he came to work for his boss. In his other ear, he’s got Sev running a continuous stream of dirty words, swearing like a sailor in his ear as they work themselves closer and closer to a climax, Severin’s hand on his cock speeding up as his brother approaches his orgasm.

When Sebastian comes, it’s the first time he does so in long months without waiting for Jim’s approval first. He’s almost shocked when he feels the tight clenching in his balls, that his body has enough free will left to pull such a stunt, but then Sev’s coming too, shooting deep inside him, and it becomes impossible to care as he spills over his own stomach, too, while Jim just keeps on fucking him right through it all. 

The sperm in his arse makes it all the more slippery, and Severin, seemingly more than satisfied, doesn’t make any move to do anything but hold Sebastian in place as well as he can. At first, his cock stays firmly lodged in Sebastian’s arse, but as the blood starts leaving it, it slips further and further out until it’s completely free and it’s just Jim fucking him now, just Jim fucking him through Sev’s come, and that’s familiar and perfect and comforting and it doesn’t matter that he’s starting to feel overstimulated because it’s Jim, and Jim always gets what he wants, no matter what that happens to be. When it’s something as simple as taking pleasure from Sebastian’s body, well, why should he put up a fuss about that? So he just spreads his legs wider and keeps on taking it like the well-trained little slut he is, chest heaving all the while. 

When Jim comes, he does it silently. There’s no half-screaming fuck, like from Sev, only a little hitch in his breath and a stutter of his hips before they come to a complete halt, pressing Jim balls deep into Sebastian. He shudders as he feels it, fresh warm cum filling him up again, when most of Sev’s has already dripped back out and cooled between his cheeks. Jim stays where he is for a few moments, much too few it seems to Sebastian, and then once he’s recovered he just presses a quick kiss to Sebastian’s lips before he pulls off of the two other men. It’s only when Jim’s stood back that Sebastian realises he’s still wearing the stockings. 

“Go clean up, would you?” is Jim’s leaving comment, and Sebastian is glad to hear that at least his boss is a little out of breath, too. He glances at Sev and adds, “We wouldn’t want you to be filthy when you get on the train back to France.”


	5. Epilogue

Saying goodbye isn’t as awkward as it might have been. They’d all showered separately and, while Sev was cleaning up and changing into a clean set of Sebastian’s clothes, Jim had made an already clean Sebastian bend over to make sure he hadn’t torn. He hadn’t, and when Jim kissed his abused arse afterwards, he’d felt like all was forgiven. He still does. When he wakes up tomorrow, everything is going to be back to normal, including the fact that his brother is all but a stranger, and if some innocent onlooker had seen them now, they wouldn’t have been able to tell that anything out of the ordinary has taken place. They shake hands instead of kiss on the lips as they might’ve done and once they’re done with that they exchange the words they know they’re supposed to say but there’s a mutual understanding it’s just bullshit. When Sev steps up to Jim, though, something seems to change and there’s a certain tension in the air between them. 

“Bye, then,” Severin says, lopsided grin firmly in place. “It’s been... Fun.” 

Coming from Sev, that’s a surprisingly lame last thing to say, but Sebastian doesn’t think all that much about it. Sev’s getting old, after all, and even though he did only stay one night - a miracle all in its own - he seems to have noticed already that Jim is not amused in the least by his punch lines. Sebastian’s fully prepared to shut the door in Sev’s face, but then Jim opens his mouth. 

“Say hello to the wife,” he says, leaning back as though the conversation is already tired, and Sebastian can’t quite help but feel surprised at the look on Severin’s face, as though his biggest secret’s suddenly been busted. “How many weeks is she?”

It’s probably the first time in his life Sebastian’s seen Sev turn his eyes towards the floor shyly, but then he looks up through his eyelashes, not quite facing Seb but not quite Jim either.

“Fourteen,” he admits, shrugging. “I wanted to say a proper bye, you know?” At that, his eyes does flicker over at Sebastian, who nods silently. He’s entirely too dumbfounded to do much else, but then again, it does make a certain kind of sense. At the very least it explains why Sev didn’t insist on staying for longer. 

“Have a good one, ay?” he adds with an uncomfortable rub over his neck, and then he’s closed the door behind himself and, just like that, he’s gone. Sebastian stares at the door for a few minutes before he even thinks of what to say.

“How long did you know?”

Beside him, Jim shrugs and turns to walk back into the kitchen, presumably to put the kettle on. “Long enough. We did give him a nice farewell present though, didn’t we?”

There’s nothing for Sebastian to do but agree, but then Jim’s already moved on to a new topic, and Sebastian lets it go. Good for Severin, after all. Good for Severin.


End file.
